Fumbling
by Beth Arritt
Summary: John asks Sam out, Sam's nervous about the date.


Profiler and all its characters belong to Sander/Moses, Cynthia Saunders, NBC and the wonderful cast and crew. I'm just borrowing the excelent characters they gave us and I promise to put them right back where they belong and not hurt them. And not to mak e any money from any of them while they're here. 

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Fumbling by Beth Arritt Copyright 1997 

Samantha Waters stood in front of her bed and stared in disgust at the pile of dresses she'd thrown there one by one. She sorted through them and picked up two. After comparing them side by side she sighed and threw them back on the bed. 

"Angel!" No response. "ANGEL!" A moment later, Sam's best friend appeared at the door with a worried look. 

"What? What's wrong?" 

"This!" Sam indicated the pile in front of her. "This is what's wrong." 

"Your closet had a party and didn't invite you?" That comment earned a look from Sam that would have withered anyone who didn't know her better. 

"All these dresses and I don't have anything to wear!" 

"These are great dresses," Angel assured her, picking through them. "And they all look great on you. What's the problem?" 

Sam wouldn't meet her friend's eyes. "Bailey's a good friend. I want to look great when he gets his award." 

"That's funny, I've only been gone a few days, but I don't remember you being this worried about your wardrobe before I left." 

"Yeah, well..." Sam muttered as she paced the floor and chewed her thumb. 

"What has you so concerned about it now?" Angel grinned, knowing full well what the answer was. 

Sam muttered something almost unintelligible, and Angel's grin got even wider. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What was that?" 

Sam stopped pacing and turned to face her. "John asked me to go to the banquet with him," she said clearly. 

"John asked you out on a date?" 

"No! It's not a date, really..." She started pacing again. 

"Sam. Is he picking you up?" Sam nodded. "You're going as a pair?" She nodded again. "Is he bringing you home?" Another nod. "I don't know, sounds like the classic definition of a date to me." 

Sam whirled to face her. "Angel, it's not--" 

"Did you shave your legs?" 

Sam glared at her for a full thirty seconds before bursting into laughter. "Okay, I get the point." She pushed the dresses aside a little to lie on her back at the foot of the bed. "I'm too old for this," she sighed, closing her eyes. 

"No you're not," Angel replied as she sat on the other side of the dresses. "So what did he say?" 

Sam looked at her friend. "About what?" 

"When he asked you, Sam. What did he say?" 

She closed her eyes again. "I was in my office two days ago when I heard a knock on my door..." 

----- 

"Hi, Sam." 

"Hi, John. What's up?" 

John walked into the room, twirling a pencil in his hand. "Oh, nothing." She watched him wander around for a moment. 

"Did you want something?" 

"Just bored," he said, studying a picture on the wall. "So... I guess you and Coop are going to the awards banquet Friday?" 

Sam stared at her computer a moment before answering. "No... I'm going alone." She played with her pencil, bouncing it on the desk. "Coop and I stopped seeing each other a month ago." 

John shot her a surprised look. "Oh." He paused briefly. "I'm sorry." 

She shrugged. "It wasn't meant to be. We both knew it." 

He nodded, then examined a few more pictures. 

"Signals," Sam said after the silence started to get to her. 

He gave her a startled look. "What?" 

"The pictures came from a catalog named Signals. If you're that interested in them I could probably find it for you." 

"What? Oh, no, that's okay." He walked halfway to her desk, his eyes focused on a point somewhere over her left shoulder. "So, I don't suppose you'd like to go to the banquet with me?" 

She stared at him for a moment. "Uh... sure." 

John looked her in the eye for the first time since he walked in the office. "Really?" 

"Yeah, really." 

He blinked twice. "Great. I'll pick you up at 7?" 

"Sounds good." 

"Great." He walked out of the office without another word. Sam stared after him for a moment, then sighed and turned to bang her head on the desk a few times. 

----- 

Sam looked at her watch. "And he's going to be here in an hour!" She sat up in a panic and started sifting through the dresses again. 

Angel picked up a blue one. "How about this one?" 

Sam glanced at it. "No, that won't work. It won't go with the shoes." She resumed her search. 

"Excuse me?" 

"It won't go with the shoes," she repeated. 

"You choose shoes first and then choose the dress to match?" 

Sam nodded, her head almost buried in the dresses. 

"You're crazy. Where are the shoes?" 

Sam paused and looked around, then reached towards the back of the pile to pull out the shoes. She raised her hands to Angel dangling one black three-inch heeled shoe from the fingers of each hand. 

Angel shook her head again. "Oh, Sam..." 

*** 

Fifty-five minutes later, Sam finished clipping her hair back at the base of her neck with a black barrette and pirouetted in front of her full-length mirror. "How do I look?" she asked in her best Scarlett O'Hara imitation. 

"Perfect." The dress they had finally chosen was a floor-length black number. Angel assured Sam it was sedate and demure enough, and from the front it was--plain, simple, elegant with long sleeves, a rounded collar, fitted waist and straight sheath bottom that reached just past her ankles. The back, however, was another story. The top dipped down in a narrow V to her waist, not so wide as to be indecent, but wide enough to show some serious skin. And the bottom of the dress was slit up the middle in the back to about mid-thigh. Add to that a pair of seamed stockings and the effect was incredible. Angel smiled. Unless she missed her guess, John Grant would be stunned enough when Sam walked towards him. The minute she turned and walked away he'd probably trip over his tongue. Assuming he didn't pass out. 

"Absolutely perfect," she reiterated. 

The buzzer sounded. It was John. Sam said she'd be right down, then went to Chloe's room to say goodnight. Angel accompanied her to the elevator. "Do you think I need a coat or something?" Sam asked as she pressed the call button. 

Angel looked at her for a second. "I have the perfect thing." She ran down the hall to her room and returned a moment later with a full-length black wool cape. Sam put it on and looked at Angel for approval. 

"It's great. Go on, go." She pushed Sam towards the open elevator. "Good luck!" 

"Thanks." As the doors closed Sam gave a nervous wave. 

*** 

John was waiting at the front door of the firehouse. When Sam opened the door he just stood there and stared. "You look... incredible," he said finally. 

"Thank you." She had been staring at him as well. She had always known he was cute, but she had never realized just how devastatingly handsome he really was. And in a tux, with a white jacket and black tie... She cleared her throat. "So, shall we go?" 

He blinked hard. "Right. This way," he said, ushering her out the door and to his car. 

"*Nice* car," she commented as he helped her into the passenger side of his shiny black Corvette. "What year is it?" 

He climbed into the driver's seat. "1965 Stingray." His attention was mostly on the road as he left the firehouse. "I got it in much less-than-perfect condition when I graduated from high school. Spent a lot of time in college fixing it up." 

"It's great." Sam looked around in appreciation at the perfect interior. "How come I've never seen it before?" 

"Well, it's not the kind of car you drive everyday." He glanced at her with a grin. "Especially in our line of work." 

She gave a small laugh. "I guess not." 

*** 

They made small talk the rest of the way to the hotel. Even as she spoke, Sam marveled at how two people who had worked so closely together over the past year could suddenly feel like such strangers. She was with a man who she had spoken to, laughed with, yelled at and touched almost every day for a year, and suddenly she had difficulty finding two words to put together. Her mind was screaming something had changed. She forced those thoughts aside as they arrived at the hotel. 

John turned his car over to the parking attendant and put his hand at the small of her back as they walked into the hotel, breaking the contact only long enough to open the door for her. She could feel his touch through the wool cape as clearly as if she were wearing nothing. A shiver ran through her. 

"Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine." She looked at him, then looked away. "Cold chill." 

They reached the ballroom. Standing at her side, John helped her out of her cape. She turned and walked away a few steps to scan the rows of round tables for their group. When she turned back, John was staring, and his coat had fallen to the floor. He hastily retrieved it and handed it over to the attendant along with her cape. Pocketing the ticket, he caught up with her. 

"Did you see our table?" he asked in a rather hoarse voice. 

"I did. It's this way." She started to lead him across the room, but faltered a few steps when his hand found the small of her back again, this time without the cape as a barrier. She shivered even more at the touch of his hand on her bare skin. "Maybe I should have worn something a little warmer," she joked in a shaky voice. 

"I think what you wore is perfect," he said in a low voice right above her ear. She immediately shivered again. They arrived at the table where Grace was already seated with her husband. George and Nathan were there with their dates as well. Introductions were made all around as Sam and John sat down. 

"Has anyone talked to Bailey?" John asked, looking at their superior seated nearby at the head table. 

"Nope," George answered. "He sure looks nervous, though." 

The talk continued around her, but Sam barely heard a word. She was too busy being conscious of John's every movement and dealing with the feelings she'd been having with increasing regularity ever since Wednesday. Feelings that had intensified a hundred times over since John had picked her up. 

"Sam." She jumped slightly at John's voice next to her ear. Yet another shiver hit her. "Maybe you should have worn a sweater after all," he joked. "In the meantime, red or white?" She stared at him with a blank look. "The wine," he said, nodding to her other side. She realized with a start that there was a waiter on the other side of her holding two bottles of wine. "Oh, white," she said to the waiter. He poured her wine and left. 

Grace stood up. "If you all will excuse me for a moment, I'm going to go powder my nose. Anyone care to join me?" 

"Me," Sam said, all but jumping out of her chair. Anything to get away where maybe she could think clearly for five minutes. They weaved their way to the ladies room. 

"So, what's going on?" Grace asked as soon as they were inside. 

"What do you mean?" Sam stalled, taking a compact out of her purse and focusing her attention in the mirror. 

"You and John," Grace replied, joining Sam at the mirror. 

"Nothing." She powdered her face fiercely, then rummaged around in her bag for lipstick. 

"Yeah, sure. You show up together, you won't look at each other, and you're acting like a couple at the junior prom on your first date. I may not have your intuitive abilities, but I'm not blind." 

Sam met Grace's eyes in the mirror. For a moment she said nothing. Then she closed her eyes. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, sinking down to one of the seats in front of the mirror. 

Grace smiled. "Maybe not to people who don't know the two of you. But I imagine John's going to get some heavy-duty digs from the guys come Monday, if they're not at it already." 

Sam tilted her head back until it rested on the back of the chair. "Great," she sighed, her eyes still closed. 

"It's not the end of the world, you know." 

"What isn't?" 

"Falling in love again." 

Sam's eyes flew open. Her mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "I'll admit there's something there," she conceded finally, "but love? It's way too soon to think about that." 

"If you say so." Grace finished her make-up with a smile. "Ready?" Sam looked over at her, her head still resting on the back of the chair. 

"I suppose," she said, getting up reluctantly. They walked back to the table without saying another word. 

The rest of dinner passed in an uneventful haze. Sam made all the appropriate responses, with some prompting at times, but she wasn't really paying attention. Most of her attention was focused on the man beside her. 

The actual awards started as desert was being served. Sam turned her chair to fully face the head table and forced herself to pay attention to the awards and tried to ignore John's presence so close behind her. 

Towards the end of the awards, a band had been quietly assembling on a stage at the end of the room. When the awards ended, the band began to play "As Time Goes By." 

"Care to dance?" John asked, his mouth close to her ear. 

When she turned to answer, her nose was less than an inch from his. She stared into his eyes for what seemed like forever. She had the brief though that electric blue eyes must really be electric, because they certainly could burn. 

"Sam?" She blinked, then gave him a blank look. "Dance?" He held out his hand. 

"S-sure." She placed her hand in his and followed him to the dance floor. He took her in his arms at the edge of the floor. As they swayed silently to the music for a few moments, Sam stared at John's neck and let her mind wander. In the middle of marvelling at how good a man could smell, something ocurred to her about their surroundings. She laughed softly. 

"What?" 

She looked up at him. "Nothing. I just...." She smiled self-conciously. "This scene suddenly looked familiar. People in evening clothes, a man in a tux with a white jacket, 'As Time Goes By' playing in the background. For a moment there I felt like I'd been thrown into the middle of *Casablanca.*" 

"Here's lookn' at you kid." His Bogart impression caused Sam to collapse against his chest in laughter. 

"What? You don't like my Bogie?" She looked up to answer, then started giggling again. John smiled. "How about my Fred Astaire?" He spun her under his arm and away from him, pulled her in wrapped in one of his arms, then dipped her and held her there. 

She laughed again. "You're drunk." 

He pulled her back up, keeping her body close to his and wrapping his other arm around her. "No." He looked straight into her eyes. "Just intoxicated," he whispered. 

Sam's eyes widened. For a moment she forgot to breathe. "John--" 

A hand on John's shoulder broke the moment. "May I cut in?" 

"Bailey." John hesitated, then sighed. "Sure." He released her and moved away. Sam shivered from the sudden cold. "I'm gonna go get a drink," he said to Sam. "Want some more wine?" 

She nodded and murmured her thanks as he walked off. She stared after him as she and Bailey began dancing. 

"Sam?" Bailey waved his hand in front of her face. 

"What?" She blinked and looked at Bailey. "Oh, sorry, my mind must have wandered." 

"I can imagine," he said dryly. 

"Congratulations on the award." 

"Thanks. It should have gone to the whole team, though." 

"No. You lead us. You keep us focused and pull us back in line if we need it." She smiled. "And you take care of us when we need it." 

"Great. I'm the daddy." 

She laughed. "It does kind of feel like that sometimes, doesn't it?" 

"Some times more than others," he said, glancing towards the table at John. "So, you came to the banquet with John?" 

"Yes." It sounded more like a warning than an answer. 

"Are you two, uh..." 

Sam deliberately misunderstood. "Friends? Of course. " He gave her a skeptical look. "What? What do you want me to say? Yes, I think he's cute..." Another skeptical look. "...in a drop-dead gorgeous sort of way," she conceded. "But so what?" 

"So, the two of you have to work together." 

"Bailey, you're not my father." 

"No, but I'm your boss." He paused. "And your friend. I feel a little responsible for both of you. You're two of the best agents I've worked with. I don't want to see that destroyed on a whim." 

Sam clenched her teeth. "I've let this job take enough from my personal life already. I didn't take my life back just to have the chance to live it taken away again by my job. If it came down to that kind of choice... I'd quit first." She looked at him for a moment, then her expression softened. "You wanted me to come back. To live again. Now you have to let me do it." 

He sighed, then smiled. "I just had to know it was worth it." 

Sam's eyes narrowed. "This was a test?" 

"I wouldn't call it that. It was more of a confirmation of what I already suspected." 

She glared at him for a full ten seconds, then shook her head and smiled. "One of these days, Bailey Malone. One of these days..." 

*** 

The song ended and Bailey escorted Sam back to the table. She was feeling a little more at ease since her conversation with Bailey. It had helped her sort some things out in her mind. She was able to talk normally with the others while waiting for the band to finish their break. The band started up again and John led Sam back out to the dance floor. "You seem to have relaxed a bit," John said after they started dancing. 

"Mmmm. Maybe it's the wine." She smiled into his eyes. "Or maybe it's the company." 

He missed a step. "I don't know what Bailey said to you," he commented hoarsely, "but remind me to thank him for it later." 

She laughed. "It wasn't so much what Bailey said to me," she said thoughtfully, "it was more what I said to him." 

"And that was?" 

She hesitated, looked away, then looked back into his eyes again. "That I didn't come back to the land of the living to live in a cage." She thought of her home at the firehouse. "Well, an emotional cage, anyway," she amended. 

"I'm glad to hear it," he said softly, tightening his hold on her slightly. He raised a hand to the hair hanging beneath the barrette and ran his fingers through it once. "Your hair's too short to play Rapunzel, and I'm not sure how well I could climb it anyway." 

Sam laughed, her head falling against his chest. She decided that felt so good she left it there for a long time. 

The banquet finally ended. John drove her home and walked the short distance to the door with her. 

"Thanks." She turned to face him after unlocking the door. "I had a really great time." 

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied in a voice that wasn't quite a whisper. He leaned down to kiss her softly twice, his hand moving to release the barrette holding her hair back. Then his lips settled on hers in a long, slow kiss. One hand, still holding the barrette, wound itself in her hair. The other found its way under her cape to the bare skin of her back. He ran his fingertips up and down her back just under the edge of the fabric, the motion almost more mind-blowing than the kiss. Almost. The kiss hit her all the way down to her knees. 

He pulled back slowly, reluctantly, his hands sliding from her back and hair to rest on her sides. "Go to the movies with me tomorrow?" 

Sam nodded silently, not caring what movie. 

"Six o'clock? We could get dinner first..." She nodded again. "Great. I'll see you tomorrow." He placed her barrette in her hand and closed her fingers around it. Then he bent down for one more quick, soft kiss and opened the door for her. She stepped inside and closed the door, collapsing against it for a minute to steady her pulse and her knees. Pushing herself away from the door with a sigh, she went upstairs, pausing at the window of her living room. She could see John sitting in his car, gripping the steering wheel and looking up at the window. She turned off the lamp and stepped back from the window. A moment later she heard his car start up and drive away. She headed for her room in the dark with a smile on her face, for the first time in a while looking forward to the future. 


End file.
